Thursday 24 September 2009
Next Stage Recce
Booked onto a site nr Richmond which is around half way. Claire has kindly offered to do support, even though she doesn't like driving the Panda. I'll need to cover a section at either end in the dark, and am wondering about a brighter head torch (though it's a full moon on the Sunday). Hopefully the weather will be kind...
Tuesday 22 September 2009
Cats Protection
Spoke to a tired-sounding Events Fundraiser this morning - Julie, who explained she's been busy with an event over the weekend. More sponsorship forms and a CP vest are on the way.
Sunday 20 September 2009
Small Folding Bikes...
It's occurred to me that I could swap the pack for a small folding bike as I pass the parked Panda in Reeth... as it's only about 4m max. then to Surrender Bridge. Really small folding bikes ain't cheap though... so this has put the brakes on this one a bit...
Friday 18 September 2009
Next Stage Recce Preps
For another solo run, current thinking is to employ the bike secured in the region of Surrender Bridge and leave the car at a safe place. There appears to be a layby at nearby Healaugh (and it's all down hill for a bike ride in the dark) But safer Reeth isn't too far away either... don't want to be going too far after covering 40m on foot though, for sure! Passing the parked car in Reeth won't be easy though as the last few miles are the hardest... There's still the option of support yet though.
Must ring Cats Protection for more sponsor forms...
Must ring Cats Protection for more sponsor forms...
Tuesday 15 September 2009
Super Glue!
As blisters were a problem on the 1st attempt (as on on other routes in the past) and as blister plasters hadn't worked as prevention on the June attempt, some drastic action was called for...
A layer of Superglue was applied to the forefoot before setting off, again at coffee stop and at again at lunchtime. Although it 'crazes' it still seems to provide the equivalent to an extra layer of skin. It dries with a smooth (waterproof?) surface with perhaps a more friction friendly surface(?)
Interestingly, at the end of the day - once back at the van - it all flaked off and left the ball of the foot clean for a further application should it be required next day. As an early attempt at this secured a finger to my foot, a latex glove was used for application (cut-off fingers would suffice) and the glue is smoothed out quickly - it has to be left to dry for a minute or so before putting foot to floor of course otherwise you'll add a layer of debris that you'll be walking on all day !
A layer of Superglue was applied to the forefoot before setting off, again at coffee stop and at again at lunchtime. Although it 'crazes' it still seems to provide the equivalent to an extra layer of skin. It dries with a smooth (waterproof?) surface with perhaps a more friction friendly surface(?)
Interestingly, at the end of the day - once back at the van - it all flaked off and left the ball of the foot clean for a further application should it be required next day. As an early attempt at this secured a finger to my foot, a latex glove was used for application (cut-off fingers would suffice) and the glue is smoothed out quickly - it has to be left to dry for a minute or so before putting foot to floor of course otherwise you'll add a layer of debris that you'll be walking on all day !
A 2 Day Superglue recce with Van and towed car...
There are no car parks in Osmotherley and the 'Googled' spaces are in fact outside the pub as there is no pub car park as such. Not wanting to leave one of these spaces occupied, I opted for a little farther on along the main street that didn't seem to be over-used by residents.
Setting of with the van then for Whitby, I pulled in for a quick lunch on the Cod Beck road - this being a haven for families with fishing nets with free parking to boot...
The road drops steeply from here down Scarth Nick and the guy coming up in the Range Rover didn't seem amused at me coming down, taking all the road up - I did try and reverse but the old girl just shuddered and said 'No Way!'
It's the long way round then to Whitby via Guisborough... but as I'd planned for a 6pm start (for the daylight) I had plenty of time to book in, site the van and unfasten the bike etc.
I'd hastily assembled the bike and set the saddle too low the week before and feared for my knees on the way to the start at Robin Hood's Bay... er, it's not actually all downhill... but when the downhill comes... wheee... I could smell the brake blocks!
24/8 Day0
So, having locked the bike to the railings in the car park (for easier access later) I set off on foot down the hill with knees already like jelly.
With only a minute to spare then, I try to put myself into the zone as if I were actually starting another 5 day attempt and foolishly dip a toe in... ha ha, but the tide's in and it seems a right and proper ritual...
I definitely think the start from the sea wall is better than the main street with it's August hordes and steps. This way soon delivers the intrepid traveller to the roundabout... and yep, bike's still there...
As the light rain becomes heavier, and noting other umbrellas about, I unleash my own new addition to the kit list and use it along the cliff path. Even in the breeze it stands up okay. Two approaching tired-looking finishing Coasters both carry big umbrellas too I note. My own use of the umbrella is something of a try-out as one would definitely have been a big help on my last June sojorn... so we'll see how it performs... at 150gms it could still come in handy for twatting pesky dogs with, well, maybe...
As I ascend the NT owned Bay Ness, coming up to the old railway track, I hear a snatch of conversation through the bracken: '...four miles an hour.' Hmm, interesting...
The two lads explained that it was Whitby Regatta week, and as the pubs get busy they walk down to the Bay for a quieter drink and take a few bevvies on the way back via High Hawsker... Hawsker. Now, being somewhat pedantic by nature I noted that he'd not said Hawkser, but Haw-sker*. I thought it was a local pronunciation, but didn't say anything. Explaining my mission to get across the moor before lights out I scurry on...
Not forgetting that disastrous very first Graystone crossing I head up the Intake Road with a little trepidation but the moor crossing is without problems and is much drier than in June. After the road the next shorter section is self-explanatory too - (I'd stopped the van here earlier just to suss it in case I arrived at this section in the dark) - the many Coaster's have kindly left their mark - the path turns immediately left over the stile and in 20 yds turns right to follow the line of the former wall to a tree which I noted would make a better bivvi spot than the site hastily chosen on my last attempt in June...
On reaching the May Beck road a right turn soon delivers me the few hundred yards to the caravan site.
A short drive then back to the car park at Robin Hood's Bay to collect the bike (which comes in handy again as the chippy stays open till 9pm in August) And even cold fish and chips would be worth the climb back up the hill with the two year old vintage home-made cider I'd discovered in the toilet compartment in the van (and that I'd remembered to put in the fridge!) than the alternative of a bowl of cheese and chive Smash.
Though the old girl did struggle back up the 30% hill at Fylingthorpe - 1st gear an' all... phew!
*(Hawkser/Hawsker confusion is due to error on Footprint maps)
25/8 Day1
I'd set the alarms (3 in all) for 4am - an alarm becomes necessary with comfort! But as the first sounded, I slid down the blind to see, well, nothing, other than pitch darkness. Not even a glim. This is something I could have paid more attention to, and with the next alarm (watch this time) I rolled over knowing that I'd have to actually get up when the mob. phone alarm sounded as I'd sited the damn thing at the other end of the van!
The 'opera' setting on the Sony Ericson W800 would wake the dead... with a scaled increase in volume it just cannot be ignored - 'wailing bitch' comes to mind...
Birdsong begins at 5.40, but I don't actually begin the big day until 6.05 to depart a sleepy caravan site wondering whether a pork pie will be available in Grosmont and expecting a strong likelyhood of completing the last few miles of the day in the dark...
The Co-op opens at 7.30 in the week - milk, sandwich, flapjack and 1/2lbs of liquorice allsorts it is then... but no pork pies! Delivery, he tells me is imminent... the baker's van arrives... but the Ford's delivery van arrives just as I'm setting off - and it's first drop is at the station cafe anyway... doh.
So it's a lively pace to Glaisdale and I'm prepared for a coffee stop as I ascend the Rigg. The shooting butt at the side of the track provides some shelter from the wind. But this little luxury saps a full half-hour...
The camera phone has a Walkman and I've decided to use it for the boring bits... and this is the 3rd time I've covered this - 2nd time this year even...
As I take the turning for the head of Rosedale at the head of Fryup Dale a spritely looking gent is coming down through the heather. His heart is 30% less efficient than it used to be he tells me, but he's happy to be able to get out and takes things steady these days at Eighty!
It's a good sign as I descend to the former railway trackbed before Dales Head Farm as my legs don't feel as punished as they did just a few months earlier.... and what's this? A flapping makeshift sign is forlornly pinned to a post 'Tea and Cake' with a scribbled arrow. I've not noticed this in the past and decide to see if a sandwich is available as it may save on time to miss the Lion with a straight cut up the hill in the direction of the Ironstone trackway. Besides, such enterprise deserves support and no doubt the Lion will not miss my few quid and it is lunchtime and ten past one already...
A dairy cow is grazing the lawn. A face briefly appears at the window... I'd best knock...
Yes, of course I can have a sandwich, cheese all right? though she'll need to check the bread she says...
An older farmer and younger man come to usher the cow from the lawn... I feel bad about disturbing her grazing...
Sorry, out of bread, but the tea loaf is very good she assures on her return... okay, tea loaf and cheese it is then.
It's sunny now and the parasol is handy. Last time cutting through here the sun blazed down with not a gasp of breeze and a brolly would have been ideal. No wonder I had problems on arrival at the Lion. My only concern this time was whether the cake and cheese lunch would provide sufficient sustenance to get me to Lord Stones.
She and her partner are off to Dublin later in the year to do the marathon it transpires. We agree they are very lucky to have such delightful surroundings to train in. They are planning on doing B&B here in the near future, and I suggest they contact Sherpa as a detour from the established route would be well worth the effort to stay in this secluded spot and yes they still do camping here. We both squint and sheild our eyes as she points out the line of the railway trackbed on the other side of the valley. I feel fortified enough now to start for the Lord Stones.
As I set off I'm reminding myself that I have come without my map sections and Footprint maps... she at home will keep tidying up after me! Suffice it to say that as they weren't on the table, I must have packed them... Well, I hadn't - she'd put them upstairs... Though, I do have the 1" NYM Tourist map and had I paid more attention to it I wouldn't have assumed that the trackbed I'd arrived at would join up with the one that continues to Bloworth. So a good 15-20 minutes is lost in getting back on track, literally... I should have crossed the 1st railway, continued up to the road and across to set points for the Bloworth Line... and now it seems like an age till I get to the back of the Lion Inn... doh.
In the Coast to Coast series on TV, Wainwright is shown being interviewed at Bloworth on an earlier screening - he describes a fast pace for the section to the Lion as 5mph (12mm pace) so I'm going to test this - I plug in the headphones and notch up the volume!
After 3m of steady running (more of a lope really) I remind myself that if I keep it up I'll burn myself out and fail again at Lordstones and drop back to a walk pace just to be sure.
Although it's quite breezy I use the umbrella when the sun pops out from behind the racey clouds. The afternoon is warm but not hot and the clinker of the trackbed doesn't burn the feet, but now is the test for the Superglue for this is where the tell-tale burning sensation began back in June.
The final bend and cutting come into view and by Bloworth I'm 1/2 way through second listening to ye olde Chemical Brothers... which gives me a definite time point of 1hr 18mins, and that's including some running...
At the 'seat stone' at the Cleveland Way turn off I munch on a cereal bar and a few liquorice allsorts. I consider the stove but swig some of Dale Head's own natural spring water instead, as a brew could add an inconvenient half-hour.
I hadn't scheduled for passing conversations and especially Matt from California... he was keen to take a photo and couldn't believe the size of my sack (it was necessary to carry what I would usually take on a 5 day attempt as an unladen trip would have been a pointless excercise) - we must have spoke for a good 20 mins - he was heading of to Corsica and the GR2 on completeing the Coast to Coast...
Still feeling fit I toyed with the idea of missing the Stones and keeping on, but the decision to include the big 3 changed things...
On the June attempt I'd felt so knocked that I'd opted for the lower bridleway route... so here would be a test for the cheese and cake of Dale Head Farm. The uneven paving from here comes very harsh on tired feet also.
I'd hoped (and scheduled) to arrive at the Stones sometime around 6pm, but the decision to include the 3 climbs (Hasty Bank, Cold and Cringle Moors) this time definitely slowed me down and the calories had certainly been used up as the last of the three had me gasping and pausing almost every other step.
If you want to see motorbikes and mingle with bikers then Lord Stones is the place to be on a Tuesday night. It occurs to me that many of them are older because they couldn't afford the bikes in their youth... though for me it's 7.40pm and I don't have much daylight left to get to Osmotherley... and, I'm only a half-hour up on my last attempt!
At 8.00pm then I'm off again, sloshing around a pint of tea and cake, knowing that I might just have an hour of useful light left, especially on the tops, and fully aware that Scugdale could be challenging in the dark...
I've already passed the fell runner who's coming down. We feel some mutual kinship and chat for a while - turn's out we share reading material - he's been reading Matto's book 'Life on the Run' and would like to have a go at a crossing in a similar fashion. He's young and fit... and my legs just won't go any more - 'I can't run', I tell him, 'my legs are gone.' He uses the hills here he says for Lake District style training - they are the only hills he has. I commiserate as the only hills I have to hand are grassed over colliery waste tips...
As I head up to the trig point there's a couple taking in the views - she smiles and he tells me that it's more than I'd calculated to Osmotherley. I press on aware of the impending dusk.
It certainly seems to go on for longer than remembered, and on approaching Sheepwash Bank I adjust the LED torch in readiness. I've tested it out at home, but this will be its first proper trial. Approaching the final descent through the trees I reach to switch it on and as I do I hear a curious sound ahead - like a kind of groan - which startles me enough to misplace my footing. Again the steps here are fashioned any old how, and I've managed to jar my right knee - the sharp accompanying pain winds me for a while and I stop to take stock. I assume there are walkers coming up ahead, but there is nothing other than softwood trees sighing in the breeze. I can flex the knee and feel confident to continue but I remind myself of my fall here on my first attempt and feel suddenly vulnerable. Cursing aloud at the step builders then, I descend slowly and cautiously through the pitch blackness as the 'e+lite' throws threatening shadows.
I'm on memory now as the 1" map shows little detail.
After Huthwaite I remembered there's a footbridge, but for the life of me I could not find it. I knew it must be close to the river (no surprises there... ) Looking for tell-tale bootprints I began to scour the ground... knowing full well that mind mist was beginning to creep in... then there it was! The Cleveland Way acorn as a white pin prick ahead. Soon I was at the gate and crossing the field. I knew the route went off to my right but also a Right of Way that cuts up to a tree and a gate that is marked by posts. Nearing the trees the trapped sheep on the other side of the fence frantically charged at the fence terrified by the light. But I was through the gate now and picking a way through deep mud... then the commomerative seat ahead is where the Cleveland Way meets the fence - damn, of course it is. Now it was just a matter of forging ahead to the road at Scarth Gap and being guided by the Cleveland Way acorns. The thought enters my mind that I can do this... but then could I? Climb Scarth Moor and bivvy or put a tarp up? At least I knew if I could make it too Osmotherly I could certainly have made it to the top of Beacon Hill which is Day1's destination. But I would need a longer day and still a better level of fitness. And then there's the 38m to complete on Day2...
The stiff climb up through the trees becomes cruel and it seems to go on forever to actually reach the road. Damn it, where is that bloody road!?
Eventually I begin to see a few stars and emerge onto tarmac. It's road from here no question! I should have remembered my lunch stop on this road from the day before... was it only a day ago..? I'd sat out with a sandwich as the kids had played with fishing nets... only to retreat back into the van as the midges gathered... yes the MIDGES. Damn they're attracted by the light and sweat no doubt... I put the shell jacket on but probably trap a few in the process and itch and scratch my way onward...
Passing where I'd parked-up for lunch I passed a VW camper that I'd parked behind in Osmotherly - I'd told him about this secluded spot and he'd clearly decided to overnight here. Maybe I should knock him up and ask... nay beg, for a lift.
Beside Cod Beck Reservoir an eerie mist hangs low about the road and I remind myself it'll soon be Autumn - season of mists and mellow midge bites...
I've never managed to start a walk yet where I've finished at the same pace... and this is no exception. The final mile becomes a drudge but the thought of a drink spurs me on... drink? Nay can't have a drink - I've yet to drive round the moors back to the van...
There's a father telling his kid off coming up the street. It's 10.30pm. I ask if the pub's still open - I must look weary as he wants to know how far I've come - "Bloody hell, aye?" he says. Still be open yet, he tells me and he calls out "get yersel' a pint!"
I'll manage a half, I think... yeah, I'll manage a half, and some crisps. And there's the pub... and turning the corner there's the car - still there, and intact. 'Bloody hell, aye' indeed, I made it, Superglue an' all!
Setting of with the van then for Whitby, I pulled in for a quick lunch on the Cod Beck road - this being a haven for families with fishing nets with free parking to boot...
The road drops steeply from here down Scarth Nick and the guy coming up in the Range Rover didn't seem amused at me coming down, taking all the road up - I did try and reverse but the old girl just shuddered and said 'No Way!'
It's the long way round then to Whitby via Guisborough... but as I'd planned for a 6pm start (for the daylight) I had plenty of time to book in, site the van and unfasten the bike etc.
I'd hastily assembled the bike and set the saddle too low the week before and feared for my knees on the way to the start at Robin Hood's Bay... er, it's not actually all downhill... but when the downhill comes... wheee... I could smell the brake blocks!
24/8 Day0
So, having locked the bike to the railings in the car park (for easier access later) I set off on foot down the hill with knees already like jelly.
With only a minute to spare then, I try to put myself into the zone as if I were actually starting another 5 day attempt and foolishly dip a toe in... ha ha, but the tide's in and it seems a right and proper ritual...
I definitely think the start from the sea wall is better than the main street with it's August hordes and steps. This way soon delivers the intrepid traveller to the roundabout... and yep, bike's still there...
As the light rain becomes heavier, and noting other umbrellas about, I unleash my own new addition to the kit list and use it along the cliff path. Even in the breeze it stands up okay. Two approaching tired-looking finishing Coasters both carry big umbrellas too I note. My own use of the umbrella is something of a try-out as one would definitely have been a big help on my last June sojorn... so we'll see how it performs... at 150gms it could still come in handy for twatting pesky dogs with, well, maybe...
As I ascend the NT owned Bay Ness, coming up to the old railway track, I hear a snatch of conversation through the bracken: '...four miles an hour.' Hmm, interesting...
The two lads explained that it was Whitby Regatta week, and as the pubs get busy they walk down to the Bay for a quieter drink and take a few bevvies on the way back via High Hawsker... Hawsker. Now, being somewhat pedantic by nature I noted that he'd not said Hawkser, but Haw-sker*. I thought it was a local pronunciation, but didn't say anything. Explaining my mission to get across the moor before lights out I scurry on...
Not forgetting that disastrous very first Graystone crossing I head up the Intake Road with a little trepidation but the moor crossing is without problems and is much drier than in June. After the road the next shorter section is self-explanatory too - (I'd stopped the van here earlier just to suss it in case I arrived at this section in the dark) - the many Coaster's have kindly left their mark - the path turns immediately left over the stile and in 20 yds turns right to follow the line of the former wall to a tree which I noted would make a better bivvi spot than the site hastily chosen on my last attempt in June...
On reaching the May Beck road a right turn soon delivers me the few hundred yards to the caravan site.
A short drive then back to the car park at Robin Hood's Bay to collect the bike (which comes in handy again as the chippy stays open till 9pm in August) And even cold fish and chips would be worth the climb back up the hill with the two year old vintage home-made cider I'd discovered in the toilet compartment in the van (and that I'd remembered to put in the fridge!) than the alternative of a bowl of cheese and chive Smash.
Though the old girl did struggle back up the 30% hill at Fylingthorpe - 1st gear an' all... phew!
*(Hawkser/Hawsker confusion is due to error on Footprint maps)
25/8 Day1
I'd set the alarms (3 in all) for 4am - an alarm becomes necessary with comfort! But as the first sounded, I slid down the blind to see, well, nothing, other than pitch darkness. Not even a glim. This is something I could have paid more attention to, and with the next alarm (watch this time) I rolled over knowing that I'd have to actually get up when the mob. phone alarm sounded as I'd sited the damn thing at the other end of the van!
The 'opera' setting on the Sony Ericson W800 would wake the dead... with a scaled increase in volume it just cannot be ignored - 'wailing bitch' comes to mind...
Birdsong begins at 5.40, but I don't actually begin the big day until 6.05 to depart a sleepy caravan site wondering whether a pork pie will be available in Grosmont and expecting a strong likelyhood of completing the last few miles of the day in the dark...
The Co-op opens at 7.30 in the week - milk, sandwich, flapjack and 1/2lbs of liquorice allsorts it is then... but no pork pies! Delivery, he tells me is imminent... the baker's van arrives... but the Ford's delivery van arrives just as I'm setting off - and it's first drop is at the station cafe anyway... doh.
So it's a lively pace to Glaisdale and I'm prepared for a coffee stop as I ascend the Rigg. The shooting butt at the side of the track provides some shelter from the wind. But this little luxury saps a full half-hour...
The camera phone has a Walkman and I've decided to use it for the boring bits... and this is the 3rd time I've covered this - 2nd time this year even...
As I take the turning for the head of Rosedale at the head of Fryup Dale a spritely looking gent is coming down through the heather. His heart is 30% less efficient than it used to be he tells me, but he's happy to be able to get out and takes things steady these days at Eighty!
It's a good sign as I descend to the former railway trackbed before Dales Head Farm as my legs don't feel as punished as they did just a few months earlier.... and what's this? A flapping makeshift sign is forlornly pinned to a post 'Tea and Cake' with a scribbled arrow. I've not noticed this in the past and decide to see if a sandwich is available as it may save on time to miss the Lion with a straight cut up the hill in the direction of the Ironstone trackway. Besides, such enterprise deserves support and no doubt the Lion will not miss my few quid and it is lunchtime and ten past one already...
A dairy cow is grazing the lawn. A face briefly appears at the window... I'd best knock...
Yes, of course I can have a sandwich, cheese all right? though she'll need to check the bread she says...
An older farmer and younger man come to usher the cow from the lawn... I feel bad about disturbing her grazing...
Sorry, out of bread, but the tea loaf is very good she assures on her return... okay, tea loaf and cheese it is then.
It's sunny now and the parasol is handy. Last time cutting through here the sun blazed down with not a gasp of breeze and a brolly would have been ideal. No wonder I had problems on arrival at the Lion. My only concern this time was whether the cake and cheese lunch would provide sufficient sustenance to get me to Lord Stones.
She and her partner are off to Dublin later in the year to do the marathon it transpires. We agree they are very lucky to have such delightful surroundings to train in. They are planning on doing B&B here in the near future, and I suggest they contact Sherpa as a detour from the established route would be well worth the effort to stay in this secluded spot and yes they still do camping here. We both squint and sheild our eyes as she points out the line of the railway trackbed on the other side of the valley. I feel fortified enough now to start for the Lord Stones.
As I set off I'm reminding myself that I have come without my map sections and Footprint maps... she at home will keep tidying up after me! Suffice it to say that as they weren't on the table, I must have packed them... Well, I hadn't - she'd put them upstairs... Though, I do have the 1" NYM Tourist map and had I paid more attention to it I wouldn't have assumed that the trackbed I'd arrived at would join up with the one that continues to Bloworth. So a good 15-20 minutes is lost in getting back on track, literally... I should have crossed the 1st railway, continued up to the road and across to set points for the Bloworth Line... and now it seems like an age till I get to the back of the Lion Inn... doh.
In the Coast to Coast series on TV, Wainwright is shown being interviewed at Bloworth on an earlier screening - he describes a fast pace for the section to the Lion as 5mph (12mm pace) so I'm going to test this - I plug in the headphones and notch up the volume!
After 3m of steady running (more of a lope really) I remind myself that if I keep it up I'll burn myself out and fail again at Lordstones and drop back to a walk pace just to be sure.
Although it's quite breezy I use the umbrella when the sun pops out from behind the racey clouds. The afternoon is warm but not hot and the clinker of the trackbed doesn't burn the feet, but now is the test for the Superglue for this is where the tell-tale burning sensation began back in June.
The final bend and cutting come into view and by Bloworth I'm 1/2 way through second listening to ye olde Chemical Brothers... which gives me a definite time point of 1hr 18mins, and that's including some running...
At the 'seat stone' at the Cleveland Way turn off I munch on a cereal bar and a few liquorice allsorts. I consider the stove but swig some of Dale Head's own natural spring water instead, as a brew could add an inconvenient half-hour.
I hadn't scheduled for passing conversations and especially Matt from California... he was keen to take a photo and couldn't believe the size of my sack (it was necessary to carry what I would usually take on a 5 day attempt as an unladen trip would have been a pointless excercise) - we must have spoke for a good 20 mins - he was heading of to Corsica and the GR2 on completeing the Coast to Coast...
Still feeling fit I toyed with the idea of missing the Stones and keeping on, but the decision to include the big 3 changed things...
On the June attempt I'd felt so knocked that I'd opted for the lower bridleway route... so here would be a test for the cheese and cake of Dale Head Farm. The uneven paving from here comes very harsh on tired feet also.
I'd hoped (and scheduled) to arrive at the Stones sometime around 6pm, but the decision to include the 3 climbs (Hasty Bank, Cold and Cringle Moors) this time definitely slowed me down and the calories had certainly been used up as the last of the three had me gasping and pausing almost every other step.
If you want to see motorbikes and mingle with bikers then Lord Stones is the place to be on a Tuesday night. It occurs to me that many of them are older because they couldn't afford the bikes in their youth... though for me it's 7.40pm and I don't have much daylight left to get to Osmotherley... and, I'm only a half-hour up on my last attempt!
At 8.00pm then I'm off again, sloshing around a pint of tea and cake, knowing that I might just have an hour of useful light left, especially on the tops, and fully aware that Scugdale could be challenging in the dark...
I've already passed the fell runner who's coming down. We feel some mutual kinship and chat for a while - turn's out we share reading material - he's been reading Matto's book 'Life on the Run' and would like to have a go at a crossing in a similar fashion. He's young and fit... and my legs just won't go any more - 'I can't run', I tell him, 'my legs are gone.' He uses the hills here he says for Lake District style training - they are the only hills he has. I commiserate as the only hills I have to hand are grassed over colliery waste tips...
As I head up to the trig point there's a couple taking in the views - she smiles and he tells me that it's more than I'd calculated to Osmotherley. I press on aware of the impending dusk.
It certainly seems to go on for longer than remembered, and on approaching Sheepwash Bank I adjust the LED torch in readiness. I've tested it out at home, but this will be its first proper trial. Approaching the final descent through the trees I reach to switch it on and as I do I hear a curious sound ahead - like a kind of groan - which startles me enough to misplace my footing. Again the steps here are fashioned any old how, and I've managed to jar my right knee - the sharp accompanying pain winds me for a while and I stop to take stock. I assume there are walkers coming up ahead, but there is nothing other than softwood trees sighing in the breeze. I can flex the knee and feel confident to continue but I remind myself of my fall here on my first attempt and feel suddenly vulnerable. Cursing aloud at the step builders then, I descend slowly and cautiously through the pitch blackness as the 'e+lite' throws threatening shadows.
I'm on memory now as the 1" map shows little detail.
After Huthwaite I remembered there's a footbridge, but for the life of me I could not find it. I knew it must be close to the river (no surprises there... ) Looking for tell-tale bootprints I began to scour the ground... knowing full well that mind mist was beginning to creep in... then there it was! The Cleveland Way acorn as a white pin prick ahead. Soon I was at the gate and crossing the field. I knew the route went off to my right but also a Right of Way that cuts up to a tree and a gate that is marked by posts. Nearing the trees the trapped sheep on the other side of the fence frantically charged at the fence terrified by the light. But I was through the gate now and picking a way through deep mud... then the commomerative seat ahead is where the Cleveland Way meets the fence - damn, of course it is. Now it was just a matter of forging ahead to the road at Scarth Gap and being guided by the Cleveland Way acorns. The thought enters my mind that I can do this... but then could I? Climb Scarth Moor and bivvy or put a tarp up? At least I knew if I could make it too Osmotherly I could certainly have made it to the top of Beacon Hill which is Day1's destination. But I would need a longer day and still a better level of fitness. And then there's the 38m to complete on Day2...
The stiff climb up through the trees becomes cruel and it seems to go on forever to actually reach the road. Damn it, where is that bloody road!?
Eventually I begin to see a few stars and emerge onto tarmac. It's road from here no question! I should have remembered my lunch stop on this road from the day before... was it only a day ago..? I'd sat out with a sandwich as the kids had played with fishing nets... only to retreat back into the van as the midges gathered... yes the MIDGES. Damn they're attracted by the light and sweat no doubt... I put the shell jacket on but probably trap a few in the process and itch and scratch my way onward...
Passing where I'd parked-up for lunch I passed a VW camper that I'd parked behind in Osmotherly - I'd told him about this secluded spot and he'd clearly decided to overnight here. Maybe I should knock him up and ask... nay beg, for a lift.
Beside Cod Beck Reservoir an eerie mist hangs low about the road and I remind myself it'll soon be Autumn - season of mists and mellow midge bites...
I've never managed to start a walk yet where I've finished at the same pace... and this is no exception. The final mile becomes a drudge but the thought of a drink spurs me on... drink? Nay can't have a drink - I've yet to drive round the moors back to the van...
There's a father telling his kid off coming up the street. It's 10.30pm. I ask if the pub's still open - I must look weary as he wants to know how far I've come - "Bloody hell, aye?" he says. Still be open yet, he tells me and he calls out "get yersel' a pint!"
I'll manage a half, I think... yeah, I'll manage a half, and some crisps. And there's the pub... and turning the corner there's the car - still there, and intact. 'Bloody hell, aye' indeed, I made it, Superglue an' all!
So, what went wrong this time?
on reflection:
1) Lack of sleep. With packing-up, didn't get to bed till 4am on night before travelling - planned to catch-up by sleeping on coach. Bad idea - Yorkshire Coastliner (after National Express from Leeds) is more like a service bus that literally goes 'round the houses' at Tadcaster and York.
2) Thinking maybe that my bivvi arrangement is currently too basic. Need to be more weather confident.
3) Need to be more self-reliant. I wasn't sure whether the shop in Glaisdale would be open, and I forgot to re-check opening times at Grosmont after moving start date 1 day fwd. (this was to ensure arriving at A19 Monday morning where services open at 6am)
4) Ineffective insect repellant. Need some sort of midge netting for head end of bivvi bag (or go back to a tent!)
5) OTMA - on the move accessibility was poor. This made me irritable! eg. I had lip salve - but couldn't find it!
6) Too hot in June for covering country quickly (for me at least, where most of my training involves trying to keep dry through winter and spring) Have actually weighed sm. folding umbrella since... (160gms)
The plan of blister prevention by using blister plasters taped on from the start proved useless as they wouldn't stop on for more than about 3m with either wet or sweaty feet and arrived at Lord Stones in only marginally better state than last time...
1) Lack of sleep. With packing-up, didn't get to bed till 4am on night before travelling - planned to catch-up by sleeping on coach. Bad idea - Yorkshire Coastliner (after National Express from Leeds) is more like a service bus that literally goes 'round the houses' at Tadcaster and York.
2) Thinking maybe that my bivvi arrangement is currently too basic. Need to be more weather confident.
3) Need to be more self-reliant. I wasn't sure whether the shop in Glaisdale would be open, and I forgot to re-check opening times at Grosmont after moving start date 1 day fwd. (this was to ensure arriving at A19 Monday morning where services open at 6am)
4) Ineffective insect repellant. Need some sort of midge netting for head end of bivvi bag (or go back to a tent!)
5) OTMA - on the move accessibility was poor. This made me irritable! eg. I had lip salve - but couldn't find it!
6) Too hot in June for covering country quickly (for me at least, where most of my training involves trying to keep dry through winter and spring) Have actually weighed sm. folding umbrella since... (160gms)
The plan of blister prevention by using blister plasters taped on from the start proved useless as they wouldn't stop on for more than about 3m with either wet or sweaty feet and arrived at Lord Stones in only marginally better state than last time...
June 2009 attempt (from Sherpa Van site post)
Day0 - 8pm start. Arrived off the bus 6.20 (too early - you can only mill about RHB for so long...)
The forecast is for cool and overcast with windy conditions developing towards end of week - sounds good. With time to kill managed to find a pebble this time... how do I know it's not from St Bees?
Found a better route out of RHB - half way up King St. some steps lead down to the sea wall from here a path brings you up to the roundabout (less steep I thought?) The path at Bay Ness climbs up to quickly connect with the former railway trackbed. This is still an 'ethical' line I feel, as it still allows for a clifftop start and the trackbed helps if there is a need to get across the boggy bits before dark. Wet feet from the top of the overgrown intake road, but the moor crossing is much more civilised in the light. (In retrospect this is the only advantage I can see in a June attempt to this schedule) After the road the second shorter bit of moor is much wetter and I'm wishing I'd packed those Seal Skinz now as I've started on a slightly wrong line - but again because it's June and still light I can see where many other Coasters have come the other way as I head more to my left. Coming off the moor a little breeze is welcome and I do think about dropping the landing gear, but it's still light and I'm not yet aware of just how bad the midge population is yet down at the car park! When I arrive there I realise I'd probaly be eaten alive and reluctantly trudge back up to the open moor (now with daylight gone) to try and find a level spot. I should have gone with my 1st instinct! Even up here the breeze seems to have dropped and the little blighters are forming a cloud. My insect repellant wipes prove useless and are more effective when I set light to them!
The site is not as flat as first judged and it turns out to be the worst ever night in the bag... and that's before it starts to rain...
Day1 - May have got some sleep but delayed getting up from 3.30am for an hour. Feel like a damp corpse in a body bag! Down sleeping bag is wet. Off for 5.18am. Pre-bagged muesli goes down a treat with cup of tea! Manage to dress avoiding midges by darting from place to place...
Steady to Grosmont. Pleasantly surprised to find Midge Hall (hmm, how'd it get it's name I wonder...) refurbished and lived in! Arrived Grosmont at 7.20 to find Co-op not open till 9am on Sunday (this is after sitting on bench opposite till after 8pm!) Planned food stop. So waited using the opportunity to further dry the sleeping bag on fence. This turns out to be a disaster looking back - and no better than last attempt, as though I haven't learned anything... at this hour should only be quick wash and water stop. So arrive up on schedule but leave an hour down!
Coffee stop at rd. turn off after Glaisdale Rigg. Discover I've added orange tab. to only water carried! Still it's sunny and there's a bit of breeze that helps to further dry out bag. Arrive Lion Inn knackered and slightly dehydrated with heat - feel ill here and can't eat food ordered - on return from toilet find it's been cleared away...
Trackbed is a bind in the heat of the afternoon - an umbrella would have been great as there is little breeze. The high point is being buzzed by an angry curlew! For the first time I think a companion would be good to help pass the miles. Rant at resting walkers on how pointless it all is... they laugh...
On descending to the road at Clay Bank Top a misplaced footing jars back badly on drainage stone channel built across path. Arrive Lord Stones okay though but with v. sore feet - mentally I've had it with heat and previous nights lack of sleep! Realise 5 days is off - too easy with mobile phone to book taxi...
If, on marking, my last effort would be: 'Could do better.' This effort would have to be marked: 'See Me!' in red ink...
The forecast is for cool and overcast with windy conditions developing towards end of week - sounds good. With time to kill managed to find a pebble this time... how do I know it's not from St Bees?
Found a better route out of RHB - half way up King St. some steps lead down to the sea wall from here a path brings you up to the roundabout (less steep I thought?) The path at Bay Ness climbs up to quickly connect with the former railway trackbed. This is still an 'ethical' line I feel, as it still allows for a clifftop start and the trackbed helps if there is a need to get across the boggy bits before dark. Wet feet from the top of the overgrown intake road, but the moor crossing is much more civilised in the light. (In retrospect this is the only advantage I can see in a June attempt to this schedule) After the road the second shorter bit of moor is much wetter and I'm wishing I'd packed those Seal Skinz now as I've started on a slightly wrong line - but again because it's June and still light I can see where many other Coasters have come the other way as I head more to my left. Coming off the moor a little breeze is welcome and I do think about dropping the landing gear, but it's still light and I'm not yet aware of just how bad the midge population is yet down at the car park! When I arrive there I realise I'd probaly be eaten alive and reluctantly trudge back up to the open moor (now with daylight gone) to try and find a level spot. I should have gone with my 1st instinct! Even up here the breeze seems to have dropped and the little blighters are forming a cloud. My insect repellant wipes prove useless and are more effective when I set light to them!
The site is not as flat as first judged and it turns out to be the worst ever night in the bag... and that's before it starts to rain...
Day1 - May have got some sleep but delayed getting up from 3.30am for an hour. Feel like a damp corpse in a body bag! Down sleeping bag is wet. Off for 5.18am. Pre-bagged muesli goes down a treat with cup of tea! Manage to dress avoiding midges by darting from place to place...
Steady to Grosmont. Pleasantly surprised to find Midge Hall (hmm, how'd it get it's name I wonder...) refurbished and lived in! Arrived Grosmont at 7.20 to find Co-op not open till 9am on Sunday (this is after sitting on bench opposite till after 8pm!) Planned food stop. So waited using the opportunity to further dry the sleeping bag on fence. This turns out to be a disaster looking back - and no better than last attempt, as though I haven't learned anything... at this hour should only be quick wash and water stop. So arrive up on schedule but leave an hour down!
Coffee stop at rd. turn off after Glaisdale Rigg. Discover I've added orange tab. to only water carried! Still it's sunny and there's a bit of breeze that helps to further dry out bag. Arrive Lion Inn knackered and slightly dehydrated with heat - feel ill here and can't eat food ordered - on return from toilet find it's been cleared away...
Trackbed is a bind in the heat of the afternoon - an umbrella would have been great as there is little breeze. The high point is being buzzed by an angry curlew! For the first time I think a companion would be good to help pass the miles. Rant at resting walkers on how pointless it all is... they laugh...
On descending to the road at Clay Bank Top a misplaced footing jars back badly on drainage stone channel built across path. Arrive Lord Stones okay though but with v. sore feet - mentally I've had it with heat and previous nights lack of sleep! Realise 5 days is off - too easy with mobile phone to book taxi...
If, on marking, my last effort would be: 'Could do better.' This effort would have to be marked: 'See Me!' in red ink...
June 2009 attempt
"Ah... of course! Midge Hall... not got its name for nothing then... The little blighters have hung back until I thought it was safe to unpack, and now, kneeling on my Ridgerest I'm quickly trying to stuff it all back before retreating to the minor road that will return me to the moor where I'm hoping the bit of breeze I noted as I came down will act as deterrent..."
It is now after 10.30 and I'm kicking around for that elusive bit of level ground on the edge of the moor, reluctant to switch on the head torch as this just might attract even more flying friends! Of course, the breeze has dropped now and I have insect repellant wipes hanging from my hat like Crocodile Dundee corks. The citrus floor wipes seem to keep 'em at bay for a while as well as I scrape at the layer of sweat accumulated in the last few hours from Robin Hood's Bay, though a quick flash-on of the Petzl reveals a cloud of excited and curious hungry critters. Well, I've got my Pocket Rocket this time and I'm going to make a cup of tea...
Once the stove is lit I begin to set light to my useless insect repellant wipes and this proves to be more successful as deterrent. As I'm unlikely to set a wet wet moor alight I'm surrounding myself with smouldering wipes! This, albeit temporary solution, proves most effective though the only hope for the bivvi-bagger who wishes to sleep is to breathe through a small scrunched-up hole - they don't like the moving air (or so I'm told...)
It soon becomes hot and clammy in the bag and this level patch isn't as comfy as first thought... in fact there's a nasty lump right in the small of my back... doh... this is going to be a long night...
It's after midnight... either it's started to rain, which was forecast for Sunday morning, or the critters are dancing on the bag trying to get in... this 1st night has become most unpleasant indeed and the sleeping bag is beginning to feel more wet than damp now. Still, nobody dies of hypothermia in June... do they?
With an 8pm start again I'd found a slightly nicer route out of Robin Hood's Bay - up King Street, turn right up a few steps to descend to the sea wall. This alternative was confirmed by the curator of the Old Coastguard Station when I'd phoned a few weeks earlier after zooming in on Robin Hood's Bay via Google. It looked as though the path to the roundabout through the 'park' must come out somewhere, and indeed it does. And an alternative to the route up through the caravan site below Hawkser can be tried by cutting up the hill at Bay Ness (2 miles from the start) - a short uphill pull brings you to the old railway track. Here I came upon a lady shepherd wondering whether to try and round-in two strays on the trackbed. Wise woman she... 'I'll leave 'em be,' she said thoughtfully. 'If we're not careful, we could have sheep everywhere.'
The detour onto the railway was not without forethought. It may well be June but the memory of being caught on Graystone in the dark on the last attempt has left a permanent scar. The very thought could induce a facial tick and accompanying nervous stammer to this day...
But the boggy bits are negotiated with relative ease this time and all was well until descending to the May Beck...
It's Sunday now: 3.30am and I have a raging thirst. There's some kind of grey light out there and the rain has stopped. At some point in the night I realised I could breathe through the silk bag liner but the night terrors become a sleepless blur. In late packing-up the night before setting off I'd not got to bed till 4am... so now I'm 2 night's sleep down. The idea of catching-up on the coach journey didn't work out either due mainly to the Yorkshire Coastliner being nothing more than a double decker service bus that 'went round the houses', literally. The fish and chip treat in Scarborough this time was no better than Robin Hood's Bay's very own last time. I'm thinking we must have a very good local chippy at home.
The first stage today is to Grosmont, and there's no rush. No point in arriving before the Co-op opens. The toilets at the NYMR will most likely be open and my schedule puts me there for 7.30. Plenty of time. The pre-bagged muesli goes down a treat and a cup of rosy lea is nice. Darting from spot to spot keeps the gathering cloud of early risers busy too and when I get going they'll be on the losing end.
I'm off down the minor road (again) then at 5.18am, but there's no rush. The woods are still very muddy but the ford is passable and I'm soon climbing steeply out of Littlebeck toward the open moor.
By 7.18am I'm sat on the bench at the Steam Railway. The dedicated staff are busying around like they've been here for hours already and probably have. My down bag is drying on the fence and socks soaked from the top of the Hawkser Intake Road onward from the night before. Quite civilised to have a wash and shave too... but as 8am approaches there's still no sign of the Co-op opening... cars keep pulling up, with drivers who also seem mystified at the closure. At ten past I'm thinking it a good idea to check out the opening times. This just to confirm the obvious... I rang last week to check the times... argh, hang on, it's Sunday.... Of course I slid the whole schedule forward a day to land at the A19 Monday morning and so now it's Sunday... and there it is in black and white: SUNDAY 9am...
The long and short of it is that I don't get away from Grosmont until 9.20! Once again... But I've not got much food and not sure if the shop in Glaisdale will be open either, so I just downed my second breakfast to fuel me on to the Lion Inn.
Beyond Glaisdale as the sun gets higher it becomes very warm and the pull up the Rigg turns into a slog.
I've scheduled for a coffee stop at the top of the Rigg, and it's here I discover that I added an orange tab to my only litre of water and have no plain water to boil up... The sun's out and so is the sleeping bag - to catch what little breeze there is.
I repack and set off for the Lion... I'm about an hour down on schedule now. I've had to tape some Spenco to the front of my left foot too as the shoe has rubbed and the tendon area has become tender and swollen. The NewBalance 1100 running shoes have a built-in scree cuff and the Velcro fastener has pressed the tongue against the forefoot - why didn't I realise this earlier? And why is it only the left foot that is affected?
The cut across Rosedale is shorter in map miles but longer in effort I fear and the sun is banging down - there's no breeze... an umbrella would have been worth its weight - the climb out of the Dale head leaves me feeling a bit knocked to say the least.
I arrive very sweaty at a very busy Lion Inn - hmm, 'course, it's Father's Day. The steak pie cloys and I have to leave two thirds of it as I begin to feel sick - I even leave half of the iced lime cordial, to make a swift exit to the toilet... when I return it's been cleared away, ah well, there you go, I should have left word...
I've been applying blister plasters at every stop since the start, but after around 3m I can feel them bunching up to my toes - they just won't stick for long enough to sweaty feet despite cleaning the area well with alcohol wipes.
The plan is to cover the old railway quickly, but the sun is still out. With little breeze any running is in short bursts of 20-30yds. I'm thinking it's better to have the mist down than see the endless miles ahead now (I thought this coming up the Rigg too...) Two Coasters (or ramblers) are sat on the bank enjoying a flask as I near the final bend and by now I'm talking to myself. 'Pointless!' I call out, 'this is bloody pointless!' They laugh in agreement.
At the stones that make good seats for Coasters and Cleveland Wayers just after Bloworth, I stop to try and sort me sore feet - the cinder track-bed seems to have made them all hot and the plasters put on at the Lion soon bunched up against the toes. I'm mad at myself now, I'm mad at New Balance... I'm just plain MAD! and it's angry mad...
It doesn't help when I misplace a foot descending to the road and jar my back quite badly...
I feel as though I've some form of chemical imbalace somehow - out of sorts. As though I'm only firing on 3 cylinders... 5 or 11? no, only ever been a 4 cyl model me... and not many cc's at that...
I can't believe where the time has gone... have I been abducted by aliens enroute or what? The thought of the three climbs over the tops seems a nonsense and I skirt by on the lower route - even the permissive bridleway that delivers straight to the Lord Stones door.
It is now 8.10pm! I've not made any progress on the last attempt... And angry clouds are gathering with spots of rain. If I leave here on foot I'm commiting myself to another night in the bag whatever the weather. I know I could make the next 6m physically, but mentally I'm done. It's the thought of another night in the bag that finishes me... it has all become a pointless excercise... 6 months training for nothing! I look at Robin Hood's small pebble and just know it won't get to StBees by Thursday. My better judgement tells me that if it is as hot again on the morrow - I just won't be up to covering the 38 miles to Cringley Bottom - I could maybe make it to Richmond... common sense prevails: this 5 day attempt is off...
It is now after 10.30 and I'm kicking around for that elusive bit of level ground on the edge of the moor, reluctant to switch on the head torch as this just might attract even more flying friends! Of course, the breeze has dropped now and I have insect repellant wipes hanging from my hat like Crocodile Dundee corks. The citrus floor wipes seem to keep 'em at bay for a while as well as I scrape at the layer of sweat accumulated in the last few hours from Robin Hood's Bay, though a quick flash-on of the Petzl reveals a cloud of excited and curious hungry critters. Well, I've got my Pocket Rocket this time and I'm going to make a cup of tea...
Once the stove is lit I begin to set light to my useless insect repellant wipes and this proves to be more successful as deterrent. As I'm unlikely to set a wet wet moor alight I'm surrounding myself with smouldering wipes! This, albeit temporary solution, proves most effective though the only hope for the bivvi-bagger who wishes to sleep is to breathe through a small scrunched-up hole - they don't like the moving air (or so I'm told...)
It soon becomes hot and clammy in the bag and this level patch isn't as comfy as first thought... in fact there's a nasty lump right in the small of my back... doh... this is going to be a long night...
It's after midnight... either it's started to rain, which was forecast for Sunday morning, or the critters are dancing on the bag trying to get in... this 1st night has become most unpleasant indeed and the sleeping bag is beginning to feel more wet than damp now. Still, nobody dies of hypothermia in June... do they?
With an 8pm start again I'd found a slightly nicer route out of Robin Hood's Bay - up King Street, turn right up a few steps to descend to the sea wall. This alternative was confirmed by the curator of the Old Coastguard Station when I'd phoned a few weeks earlier after zooming in on Robin Hood's Bay via Google. It looked as though the path to the roundabout through the 'park' must come out somewhere, and indeed it does. And an alternative to the route up through the caravan site below Hawkser can be tried by cutting up the hill at Bay Ness (2 miles from the start) - a short uphill pull brings you to the old railway track. Here I came upon a lady shepherd wondering whether to try and round-in two strays on the trackbed. Wise woman she... 'I'll leave 'em be,' she said thoughtfully. 'If we're not careful, we could have sheep everywhere.'
The detour onto the railway was not without forethought. It may well be June but the memory of being caught on Graystone in the dark on the last attempt has left a permanent scar. The very thought could induce a facial tick and accompanying nervous stammer to this day...
But the boggy bits are negotiated with relative ease this time and all was well until descending to the May Beck...
It's Sunday now: 3.30am and I have a raging thirst. There's some kind of grey light out there and the rain has stopped. At some point in the night I realised I could breathe through the silk bag liner but the night terrors become a sleepless blur. In late packing-up the night before setting off I'd not got to bed till 4am... so now I'm 2 night's sleep down. The idea of catching-up on the coach journey didn't work out either due mainly to the Yorkshire Coastliner being nothing more than a double decker service bus that 'went round the houses', literally. The fish and chip treat in Scarborough this time was no better than Robin Hood's Bay's very own last time. I'm thinking we must have a very good local chippy at home.
The first stage today is to Grosmont, and there's no rush. No point in arriving before the Co-op opens. The toilets at the NYMR will most likely be open and my schedule puts me there for 7.30. Plenty of time. The pre-bagged muesli goes down a treat and a cup of rosy lea is nice. Darting from spot to spot keeps the gathering cloud of early risers busy too and when I get going they'll be on the losing end.
I'm off down the minor road (again) then at 5.18am, but there's no rush. The woods are still very muddy but the ford is passable and I'm soon climbing steeply out of Littlebeck toward the open moor.
By 7.18am I'm sat on the bench at the Steam Railway. The dedicated staff are busying around like they've been here for hours already and probably have. My down bag is drying on the fence and socks soaked from the top of the Hawkser Intake Road onward from the night before. Quite civilised to have a wash and shave too... but as 8am approaches there's still no sign of the Co-op opening... cars keep pulling up, with drivers who also seem mystified at the closure. At ten past I'm thinking it a good idea to check out the opening times. This just to confirm the obvious... I rang last week to check the times... argh, hang on, it's Sunday.... Of course I slid the whole schedule forward a day to land at the A19 Monday morning and so now it's Sunday... and there it is in black and white: SUNDAY 9am...
The long and short of it is that I don't get away from Grosmont until 9.20! Once again... But I've not got much food and not sure if the shop in Glaisdale will be open either, so I just downed my second breakfast to fuel me on to the Lion Inn.
Beyond Glaisdale as the sun gets higher it becomes very warm and the pull up the Rigg turns into a slog.
I've scheduled for a coffee stop at the top of the Rigg, and it's here I discover that I added an orange tab to my only litre of water and have no plain water to boil up... The sun's out and so is the sleeping bag - to catch what little breeze there is.
I repack and set off for the Lion... I'm about an hour down on schedule now. I've had to tape some Spenco to the front of my left foot too as the shoe has rubbed and the tendon area has become tender and swollen. The NewBalance 1100 running shoes have a built-in scree cuff and the Velcro fastener has pressed the tongue against the forefoot - why didn't I realise this earlier? And why is it only the left foot that is affected?
The cut across Rosedale is shorter in map miles but longer in effort I fear and the sun is banging down - there's no breeze... an umbrella would have been worth its weight - the climb out of the Dale head leaves me feeling a bit knocked to say the least.
I arrive very sweaty at a very busy Lion Inn - hmm, 'course, it's Father's Day. The steak pie cloys and I have to leave two thirds of it as I begin to feel sick - I even leave half of the iced lime cordial, to make a swift exit to the toilet... when I return it's been cleared away, ah well, there you go, I should have left word...
I've been applying blister plasters at every stop since the start, but after around 3m I can feel them bunching up to my toes - they just won't stick for long enough to sweaty feet despite cleaning the area well with alcohol wipes.
The plan is to cover the old railway quickly, but the sun is still out. With little breeze any running is in short bursts of 20-30yds. I'm thinking it's better to have the mist down than see the endless miles ahead now (I thought this coming up the Rigg too...) Two Coasters (or ramblers) are sat on the bank enjoying a flask as I near the final bend and by now I'm talking to myself. 'Pointless!' I call out, 'this is bloody pointless!' They laugh in agreement.
At the stones that make good seats for Coasters and Cleveland Wayers just after Bloworth, I stop to try and sort me sore feet - the cinder track-bed seems to have made them all hot and the plasters put on at the Lion soon bunched up against the toes. I'm mad at myself now, I'm mad at New Balance... I'm just plain MAD! and it's angry mad...
It doesn't help when I misplace a foot descending to the road and jar my back quite badly...
I feel as though I've some form of chemical imbalace somehow - out of sorts. As though I'm only firing on 3 cylinders... 5 or 11? no, only ever been a 4 cyl model me... and not many cc's at that...
I can't believe where the time has gone... have I been abducted by aliens enroute or what? The thought of the three climbs over the tops seems a nonsense and I skirt by on the lower route - even the permissive bridleway that delivers straight to the Lord Stones door.
It is now 8.10pm! I've not made any progress on the last attempt... And angry clouds are gathering with spots of rain. If I leave here on foot I'm commiting myself to another night in the bag whatever the weather. I know I could make the next 6m physically, but mentally I'm done. It's the thought of another night in the bag that finishes me... it has all become a pointless excercise... 6 months training for nothing! I look at Robin Hood's small pebble and just know it won't get to StBees by Thursday. My better judgement tells me that if it is as hot again on the morrow - I just won't be up to covering the 38 miles to Cringley Bottom - I could maybe make it to Richmond... common sense prevails: this 5 day attempt is off...
May 2006 attempt
link to 1st attempt - full 2006 account
Had I not pulled the muscle and Fleswick Bay not got the better of me it would have been a 7 dayer...
Welcome!
As the five day Coast to Coast is becoming something of a quest, and with good people coming forward with hard cash for my chosen charity (Cat's Protection), I'm thinking that a blog is the best way to keep track of progress (or lack of it!)
Why 5 days when most people take 10 days to 2 weeks?
The inspiration for a 5 day crossing came from Ronald Turnbull's account 'Three Days to Kidsty Pike' in the (now out of print) book 'Coast to Coasting' co-authored with John Gillam. Ronald is an accomplished outdoors writer and the only author to write a book specifically for the use of a bivvy bag aptly called 'The Book of the Bivvy'. The use of a bivvy bag makes for lightweight and swift travel with early starts and late finishes.
Alfred Wainwright's very popular Coast to Coast route (the subject of a recent TV series with presenter Julia Bradbury) traditionally starts at St. Bees in Cumbria, leaving behind the Irish Sea and finishing some nearly 200 miles farther on at Robin Hood's Bay on the Yorkshire Coast and the North Sea.
Ronald argues that the route is better followed East to West and with a large dollop of artistic license likens the journey westward with the ever approaching high point of Kidsty Pike in the Lake District to an assualt on Everest where the British blister becomes far worse than 'mere frostbite'!
Why 5 days when most people take 10 days to 2 weeks?
The inspiration for a 5 day crossing came from Ronald Turnbull's account 'Three Days to Kidsty Pike' in the (now out of print) book 'Coast to Coasting' co-authored with John Gillam. Ronald is an accomplished outdoors writer and the only author to write a book specifically for the use of a bivvy bag aptly called 'The Book of the Bivvy'. The use of a bivvy bag makes for lightweight and swift travel with early starts and late finishes.
Alfred Wainwright's very popular Coast to Coast route (the subject of a recent TV series with presenter Julia Bradbury) traditionally starts at St. Bees in Cumbria, leaving behind the Irish Sea and finishing some nearly 200 miles farther on at Robin Hood's Bay on the Yorkshire Coast and the North Sea.
Ronald argues that the route is better followed East to West and with a large dollop of artistic license likens the journey westward with the ever approaching high point of Kidsty Pike in the Lake District to an assualt on Everest where the British blister becomes far worse than 'mere frostbite'!
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